Strays
by Black-Raven3
Summary: Harry finds himself in the most unusual bind yet, when circumstances force him to work with a mysterious shadow organization known as Torchwood. HP and Torchwood AU. Some Doctor Who. Harkness is involved, so future Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings:** Mentions of Suicide/Attempted Suicide, Jack Harkness, Slash, Some Violence, Some Language.

**Note**: This story will not be updated regularly (See my current WIP history), so do not be angry, annoyed, or disappointed if it gets left alone for months, if not years. My current projects take president, however this idea cropped up and my muses got too annoying not to pursue the story.

**Note 2**: This story is based on Harry Potter AU, however it follows the basic history of the books. The differences are pretty obvious. On that same note, this is primarily a Torchwood/HP crossover, however Doctor Who may eventually take over; I do use creative license when describing characters, histories, settings, etc. from both series, but attempt to keep them as IC as possible. Torchwood and Doctor Who will be AU as well.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own or claim to own any characters, settings, histories, or other intellectual property publicly recognizable as belonging to the TV shows Torchwood and Doctor Who, or the book series Harry Potter. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from this story. This disclaimer applies to all chapters of this story and all content within.

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It all started innocently enough. Well, if "innocent" meant surviving three killing curses, bursting into flames, and a run-in with a rogue bludger. Quite honestly it was a twist of wishful thinking that made Harry Potter assume that his continued survival was simply dumb luck. No, his life was far beyond that. But what else could it be, when one day you wake up with the nasty realization that you should be dead a hundred times over, yet you keep on ticking. Perhaps it was the slow realization that embodied his childhood idealism fading away in rushing pain and desperate breaths.

The latest incident had involved a bludgeoning charm to the chest. By all accounts he had been dead and unresponsive for a good ten minutes, before he spontaneously revived while the medi wizards were magicking his corpse onto a gurney. The blinding pain of his "first" breath seemed to lift a fog from his mind and he could no longer lie to himself, as he saw Ginny's grief-stricken face among those attending the accident. He had died as a baby, he had died in the Chamber of Secrets, he had died when Voldemort revived himself, he had died when Voldemort killed him again, and he had died in countless other accidents since the Dark Lord's demise.

No one could figure it out, and much like he once had, many laughingly chalked it up to his normal luck. What they failed to realize was that his previous "luck" had been purely to do with Dumbledore's machinations and the prophecy. The thought was fleeting that since reuniting all three Hallows he had become the Master of Death, but he dismissed it since he had given up ownership of the resurrection stone and the Elder wand. The act had been deliberate. After everyone had recovered he had arranged to duel Draco, with the express intention of losing. The wand was now to be an heirloom of the Malfoys; A gift for their sacrifices during the final battle. They were hated by their former colleagues as well as the general wizard population for their actions.

The concept of living forever made him feel faint with horror. Nightmares plagued his sleep, of watching those he loved wither to dust while he stayed forever the same. Ginny began to notice; how could she not, sleeping in the same bed? In attempts to distance himself from the possible reality of his situation, and avoid the Weasley woman, he threw himself headlong into his work, taking on every job that passed his desk in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It kept him away from home and away from Ginny, who had been pestering him about the possibility of an engagement on top of repeatedly pursuing the topic of his interrupted sleep disturbing her. He loved her dearly, but at times he had to wonder who was in love with him more; the woman who had survived a war or the girl who grew up hearing tales of the Great Harry Potter.

Ron and Hermione had gotten married as soon as they were legally of age. It had been a small and quiet ceremony in the back yard of the Burrow. Now they had little time for their former best friend, aside from to nag him about when he and Ginny were getting married. It was as if they were attempting to fulfill some fairytale ending. It left him with a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had played his part, now they wanted closure. Such assumptions were proven correct, as Ron refused him the time of day save where work and Ginny were concerned. Repeated invitations to lunch were brushed off with flimsy excuses. Harry eventually stopped trying.

Then there came a day when he had enough. Staring into the mirror in his wash closet he could hear Ginny distantly, her voice shrill with displeasure as he ignored yet another marriage discussion. Face drawn and pale, jaw lined with stubble, and eyes dull; he reminded himself of Sirius. The caged look in the Black's eyes, like a wild animal forced into a zoo, it had been a look Harry thought he had understood. Only now that he lived in Sirius' metaphoric place could he understand. His gaze drifted to his hair, which was flat and dull from lack of a wash. Gray hair peppered his temples, making him appear far older than his twenty-two years.

Is this what living "normal" meant? Plastering on a fake smile to appease the harpy in the other room, working nine o'clock to five o'clock six days a week, or even forcing himself to be miserable for the sake of those who had abandoned him the second he ceased to fit their fairy-tale image? The flat gaze in the mirror confirmed the realization. For a man who could not seem to die, life was killing him. It was quite mundane.

Turning from the grim image in the mirror, he focused his attention on Ginny, who was nearly in tears near the doorway. Searching his mind, he drew up the last words from her he had registered. They had been accusations that he did not love her. He held in a deep sigh. They had the same argument every other day, like clockwork. It was time to break the cycle.

"The question isn't whether or not I love you. The question is: do _you_ love _me_, or the kid Arthur read to you about when you were a little girl?"

The quiet words stopped her fast, tears drying up as if they never existed. Harry knew they had not. The witch used crocodile tears to try getting her way, after she realized he had grown immune to her normal venues of persuasion. The long silence was all the answer he needed. Turning away in disgust, he made his way past her and into the bedroom they had shared for the past three years. The majority of items were Ginny's. Harry had never been one for needless hoarding; preferring simplicity over extravagance. Most of his things were still packed tight in his traveling trunk, as if he had been anticipating this day since the moment he moved in.

A well placed wand swish and a flat, "Pack." Had all of his stray belongings marching into the trunk as if by marionette. Several moments passed before his actions seemed to register to the ginger woman. "You can't leave! What would the neighbors think?" A line repeated exactly as his aunt would have said. It nearly made him want to vomit. Only, Aunt Petunia would have said, _"__Don__'__t let the freak out! What would the neighbors think?__"_ Is that what he had reduced to? Though, he supposed it was true that history repeats. Shaking his head, he finally let the sigh escape.

"The neighbors will think that you finally kicked me out. I know that you gossip to old Mrs. Roland about what a good-for-nothing I am." Shrinking his trunk, he refused to look at her. He knew about the gossiping and belittling through senile Mr. Hendricks, who had forgotten that Harry was indeed Harry when he spread the neighborhood rumors. It was no secret that everyone was disappointed in Harry Potter for only being a Second Class auror, least of all his poor not-fiancé. He avoided the lime light where he was expected to embrace it, hid behind his friends to avoid the crowds. What kind of savior and figure-head was he? None at all, if he had his way.

There was little left to say, so he took his leave. Surprisingly, Ginny did not put up a fuss as he walked through their flat and out the door. His triumph felt hollow, and he had to pause at the end of the block to wonder if he had done the right thing. Flushing away his life for something that he could not yet even identify, it was mad. No one had ever accused him of sanity, however. Contemplating for a long moment, he turned on his heel and disappeared with a pop.

Godric's Hallow was a village relatively untouched by age, and not at all by expansion. He liked to imagine that it held some meaning to him, beyond the place where his parents were buried. The Potters still owned the plot of land that had been consumed by the fire all those years ago, but he refused to claim it. The wild had reclaimed the site, leaving the foundation entangled in vines and flowering brush. It was a fitting tribute to the life his mother had attempted to save. She had saved him a bit too well, or so he was about to test once and for all. Drawing in a deep breath, he pulled a revolver from his pocket and stepped into the mass of foliage that used to be the front door.

Making his way to where the nursery would have been, he looked around. The scene was nicely shrouded by trees and brush. The only thing to notice would be the noise, but perhaps someone would chalk it up to a backfiring car. It should have disturbed him, when he placed the barrel under his chin and felt no hesitance. Honestly though, what did he have to live for even if his theory proved false. Drawing in a steady breath, he quietly said his goodbyes, just in case.

A lone gunshot echoed across the landscape.


	2. Chapter 2

Life on the Tardis was never boring. Rose loved every second of it. Though, it was strange after all the business with "Bad Wolf" to be traveling around with the Doctor as if none of it had ever happened. Then again _time _was strange and the ship had refused to leave her to get sucked into an alternate dimension after the battle for Canary Warf. Life was good. They had seen the addition of Martha to their small crew and Jack had reunited for a short adventure. Like the tides they came and went, only the Doctor and Rose staying the same within the blue police box. It was both refreshing and nostalgia inspiring.

Sometimes visiting the twin moons of the Hexigos Belt, running into Daleks, and meeting intergalactic missionaries started to become normal. When that happened a break was in order to remind herself that it all really was fantastic and that the Earth was her home world. "Could we visit London?" The Doctor glanced up from the console, raising an eyebrow almost suspiciously. "Do you miss Ricky? I like Ricky. We should go see Ricky." The blonde crinkled her nose in amusement. The latest incarnation of the Doctor was a bit more absent-minded and exuberant than the previous she had fallen for, but she still loved him to bits.

"I also know the Tardis needs refueling. What's one more stop?" The look of exasperation was enough to make her stifle a giggle. It was horrible to think about what she had unwittingly done to the Captain, but there was no call to act like he was plagued. She could still recall the way the poor, incorrigible, man had clung to the outside of the ship in a desperate bid to gain answers. She would feel terrible if they cut him out entirely just because he made the Doctor feel "wrong".

Spying the set of her jaw, the Doctor heaved a sigh, knowing he was defeated. "Oh, alright, Cardiff it is." Despite the show, Rose knew that he enjoyed their run-ins with Captain Harkness as much as she did. The man could charm Hell out of the Devil and turn Saints into sinners with one of his grins. Well, most of the time. Rose seemed to be one of the few to resist his charms. The jury was still out on the Doctor.

The thought made her giggle, earning a strange look as the man in question danced around the circular console setting their trajectory. Bracing herself for the familiar jolt at the change in course, she was shocked when she was nearly thrown off her feet from the force of the ship's tremors. They exchanged a look. That only happened on certain occasions...

They jerked to a halt, the familiar "_wum wum wum" _of the parking break taking on a strange pitch before falling silent. A likewise familiar noise sounded outside the door, startling Rose and making her jog towards it, the Doctor not far behind. Only one gun-shot, but it was familiar to them both by now. She only hoped it was nothing too serious. The Doctor peered through the upper window, brow furrowed, before his jaw dropped in shock.

"Rose, stay here. No- you don't want to look outside." The tone of his voice made her re-think opening the lock. While she had seen a great many disturbing things since joining the Doctor, she was fairly certain she had never heard him sound so grim and displeased rolled into one. Taking his warning to heart, she began to turn away as he unlatched the door and stepped out. The unmistakable scent of blood brought tears to her eyes as her imagination pieced together what must have happened. Only one gunshot… that meant someone had been murdered… or… She did not want to examine the other option. It was too saddening.

The Doctor in all his years had managed to escape viewing such grisly things as suicides, for the most part. They were not exactly his style and he viewed most that fell upon such tactics as cowards, depending on the situation. Staring at the corpse lay just outside the Tardis' door made him feel sick and the smell gave him a migraine. Well, the smell and just looking at the young man. He had obviously known what he was doing, judging by half his skull missing. Yet he knew without a doubt that the Tardis had brought them there for a reason. Glancing around, he knew they had fallen short of Cardiff; he simply could not place where.

Glancing back at the body, he grimaced and turned back to the door. "Rose, be a dear and fetch me one of the blankets." He waited patiently for a wavering hand to press through. His lovely Rose was following his instructions, keeping her face turned away. Good ol' Rose was one of the few of his companions to ever learn to trust him with such things. It gave him an indescribably warm feeling in the pit of his stomach despite the current matter.

Unrolling the blanket he crinkled his nose in displeasure before throwing it over the body, making sure all the slack went to the kid's head. Wrangling the body was surprisingly easy as the corpse was rather lightweight and the frame nearly frail. He absently calculated the odds of the man being ill prior to offing himself but shrugged it off as irrelevant now. The kid had chosen his fate, so the Doctor would see him now.

Rose looked curious and queasy as he brought on the extra luggage, making his way upstairs to deposit the bundle onto one of the guest beds in the hallway. The Tardis gave a hum of approval, making him frown. Of course she would be in on the conspiracy to give him migraines. It was like having Jack on board all over again. Then again at that particular point in time the Doctor almost longed to have the Captain around to ease the mounting stress. The man had a way about him; though contrary to Rose's perverted thoughts, he was likewise immune to the Captains charms. 51st century pheromones did little against a Time Lord.

There was little for it. With their detour out of the way it took no time at all before they were once again en-route to Cardiff. The Doctor steadfastly refused to think of the bundle in the loft, while Rose was not yet ready to ask why they had stashed a corpse. The ship thrummed happily, an extra exuberant note to the parking break notice as they slowly faded and reappeared at the original destination. Almost on cue someone pounded at the door, making them exchange blooming grins. Okay, so he had missed the walking anomaly too.

Captain Jack Harkness had changed very little, except for his manner of dress. His trademark coat lay over top old fashioned suspenders and blue business shirt. It was strange after seeing him in casual jeans and leather vests the last time. Rose threw herself at him the second the door opened, making him laugh with unrestrained delight as he swung her around Roald Dahl Plass. They exchanged a kiss that would have turned heated if not for the Doctor stepping up with a pointed cough. Jack pulled away, looking both disappointed and further delighted as he set eyes on the Time Lord. Rolling his eyes playfully, the Doctor opened his arms to greet the overzealous hug, returning the expected kiss warmly, but cutting it off the second he detected tongue.

Smirking at Jack's pout, the Doctor had to shake his head. Omnisexuals were always so delightfully open with physical affection, but Jack had always been the most straightforward he had ever met. Unlike last time Jack lacked his usual pack that heralded a need for adventure. The sight both saddened the Doctor and was a relief. He and Rose could use another companion but he knew the Captain held responsibilities now. Speaking of other companions…

"There's a corpse upstairs you should take a look at." The out of place comment brought both of the young ones out of the usual voyage updates. Jack raised an eyebrow, slowly smirking, "Someone need necro rehab?" Rose crinkled her nose and socked Jack on the arm, earning a wince. The reminder made her turn serious, which the Captain picked up on rather quick, cutting off his usual banter as he followed them inside.

"What's so special about a corpse?" The quizzical look turned to alarm when a scream of pain sounded from the loft. His two companions sprinted up the stairs, Jack in the lead, while the Doctor followed at a more sedate pace. They both boggled at the sight that met them. The supposed corpse was tangling with the blanket, panicking at waking up with something covering its head. They heard familiar gasps for breath and saw the lingering blood stains on the cloth and exchanged a shocked look. Rose shrugged, clearly at a loss, before cautiously approaching the bed.

"Stop that, you're making it worse. Let me.-" She stepped forward and lightly began helping the stranger sort out the cloth. The unexpected voice and touch made the form jerk but it quickly seemed to calm down, concentrating on evening the ragged gasps. While she tended to that, Jack turned to the Doctor, looking lost and questioning.

"He looks rather good for someone who moments before had their brains splattered in the countryside. Don't you think?" The casual words made both companions startle in surprise. Rose had not seen the extent of the damage to know for sure that the figure had been dead without a doubt. Jack already knew the implication but the Doctor nodded slowly to him, not breaking eye contact.

The Captain's expression wavered to one bordering on grief for a fraction of a second before he schooled it for Rose's benefit. Unable to help himself, the Doctor wrapped the man in a one-armed hug, giving him a brief shake. Despite his words to the man on the ship to Utopia he knew it was not Jack's fault he was now a fixed point in time. Hell, it was not even Rose's fault, since she had not done it on purpose. Both acknowledged the loss and moved on, as immortals always managed to do.

During the exchange Rose managed to wrestle the blanket off the man's head, revealing him to their curious gazes. The graying black hair and faded green eyes placed him at about thirty but the Doctor knew the assumption was false. He dressed in a casual long sleeved shirt and jeans, steel-toed work boots peeking out from the over-long leggings. All three were spattered in blood and dirt, leaving no room for the imagination as to his previous state.

The man gave a start, reaching up to run shaking fingers over his unmarred head. Next, his gaze turned to Rose, who smiled comfortingly despite the shock. He appeared disoriented but alert, expression quickly turning guarded as he noted the two silent presences at the woman's back. Jack shifted slightly and the Doctor released him, letting him approach the man. Normally delivering the bad news did not bother the Doctor, but in this case he could not bring himself to and Jack knew it. The stranger surprised them, however, by heaving a defeated sigh and scrubbing a palm over his eyes.

"I can never do anything normal, can I?" The question was obviously rhetorical, as he immediately let out a ragged laugh, glancing back up at them. "I can't die." His expression was highly put-upon, as if he were discussing bad weather. All three exchanged a look, which settled that. The Doctor furrowed his brows as it dawned on him, "You shot yourself to test it, didn't you?"

The man did not seem to find the situation particularly bizarre, which cut out one more tough aspect, unless the kid was in shock. "I started to suspect a year ago. There were a few times I should have died in accidents, but didn't. Everyone else chocked it up to luck, but… I started to know better after the dozenth time."

"And if you were wrong?" The Doctor squinted, as if looking at something around the man that only he could see. The stranger gained a closed-off expression before shrugging. "If I were wrong we wouldn't be having this conversation to care." Despite trying, none of them could refute the cold logic.

"I'm Captain Jack Harkness. This is Rose and the Doctor." Pointing at each of them in introduction, Jack raised an expectant eyebrow. He surveyed while he waited for a name. The guy looked run-down and ragged, but damn those eyes were sexy. A bit unnerving as well, if Jack were honest; they looked like they belonged to a dead man with how flat the color appeared. He suspected they could shine like emeralds with the right touch.

"Harry." They blinked, and Jack fished for more information. "Harry..?" The man scowled the slightest bit, shaking his head, "Just Harry." That told far more than the kid might have wanted it to. He was running from something, and it must have been bad if he had gone to the point of shooting himself without knowing for sure he would come back. The residents of the Tardis silently agreed not to pry for now. Even if the kid was suicidal it was not like he could do anything lasting.

Plastering on his most charming smile, Jack leaned against the railing. "So, Harry-" Before he could even think to continue the question, the Doctor turned to Jack and gave him the look. "Not now, Jack." The leader of Torchwood was crestfallen, "What-" The Doctor cut him off by taking over the line of questioning.

"How old are you?" The way he said it made it so much less interesting. Having watched the exchange, Harry could not say for certain if he felt like laughing or crying. What had he been dragged into this time? Never the less after a long pause, he figured it could not hurt, "Twenty-two." Jack and Rose appeared shocked by the news, while the Doctor simply nodded.

"Are you really? My god, you look like you're thirty-five!" The blonde looked concerned, which warmed the pit in Harry's stomach a little. No one had expressed concern over him in recent years, save for keeping up appearances. Yet here was a girl he had never met before and whom had never heard of him, looking like she wanted to strangle someone in his defense. He had to shrug, trying to placate her, "Life does that." It simply made her more upset. Jack looked torn between trying to calm her down and joining her.

"Life doesn't do that to someone your age! You should be going out on dates and laughing and _living_! Not trying to kill yourself and looking like you just got out of a prison camp!" There was a shimmer in her eyes that made Harry distinctly uncomfortable. He never did well when women cried for real in front of him. Sensing his problem, Jack stepped forward to capture Rose in a hug.

"Hey, it's okay. He's fine now, and if he wants, I'm sure you two could use the company. You could show him how life's really supposed to go." He was talking to all of them, and the words seemed to have the desired effect. Her eyes lit up and she turned to a bemused Doctor, "Ask him!"

Harry watched it all with a muted sense of confusion. After leaving Ginny he had been convinced he would have nothing and that no one would bother mourning his absence. These complete strangers had shown more empathy for him in ten minutes than his best friends had in three years. It made him feel like crying, but he shouldered through the self-pity in light of the strange conversation taking place.

"I can't ask him. He's like Jack. Unless you want to see the end of the universe again. I mean, we can see if Future-Kind has advanced past cannibalism and hunting parties." The blonde woman looked determined, staring down the tweed-wearing doctor with a set in her jaw. "The Tardis obviously wanted us to find him. Why should she complain about havin' him with us?"

The Doctor looked just as determined after a moment's consideration, abruptly turning on Harry, "Tell her! Tell her I can't ask you." Rose looked outraged, stepping forward to hit the Doctor on the arm, "Now that's not fair! He doesn't even know what we're talking about!" For his part, the befuddled wizard shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.

"If you're talking about travel, I couldn't go anyway." That halted the disagreement, making Rose look crestfallen. It made Harry feel guilty, but he shoved it aside in light of the practical. "Well, I mean, I have things I need to figure out and get in order before I completely abandon my duties. Now that I know for sure I can't die, I need to figure out how to avoid my colleagues without causing a panic."

Jack looked all too understanding, reluctantly nodding in agreement. Rose took it the hardest, frown firmly in place. "But you just tried to kill yourself! Surely they can't matter that much to you!" She immediately looked apologetic, clapping a hand over her mouth. The black haired man heaved a sigh, "No, they matter a great deal to me… I just don't matter to them. But I'm too important a person to just disappear without a trace. I have to resign, lock down bank accounts, and send out letters letting them know I'm leaving. If I don't they'll start a manhunt."

The Doctor looked thoughtful at that, glancing Harry over with open curiosity. It made the wizard uncomfortable, reaching up instinctively to brush his hair to cover his scar. The move made the strange man's face light up with recognition. "Hey, I know you! You're _The _Harry! The savior! Oh my, how've you been?" He frowned, "Oh, never mind, we already covered that. Anyway, that settles it, Rose, we can't take him. At least not right now. He's not joking about it causing an international panic."

Blank stares met his mile a minute comments. Harry did not even have time to dread being recognized, too busy trying to sort out everything the man had said. He talked a bit fast. The woman seemed to follow it all just fine, looking even more confused than Harry felt. "What do you mean "the savior"? I've never seen 'im before and the only "Harry" I know of is the Prince of Wales."

The Doctor beamed at her, "Well, you wouldn't have. He's the savior of the wizard world!"


End file.
